The Time of Day
by Yorkshire Pudding
Summary: RemusSirius at school. James wonders why Remus and Sirius have been waking up so early. SLASH ahoy.


Title: The Time of Day

Author: Yorkshire Pudding

Summary: Remus/Sirius at school. James wonders why Remus and Sirius have been waking up so early.

Notes: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters affiliated with Harry Potter. We should all be glad of this, for their sakes. :-) As for this story, I wanted to experiment with a less direct approach to the Sirius/Remus thing than is usually taken. I wanted to be subtle and have some sort of framework. So, being a night person, I decided to write about the joys of early mornings, a thing I despise. Go figure. I also leave a lot (hopefully) up to the imagination. It's more fun that way. Your imagination can probably conjure much steamier scenes than I can write. Oh – one last thing. I have a bit of a potty mouth. I try to control it, but it wriggles free every now and then, so please excuse all the "damns" and "goddamns." They're my favorites.

**Morning**

'Somebody left the goddamn window open,' James thought as a strong gust of wind sent icy tingles into his warm, sleep-enveloped cocoon. He reached a hand out from the twisted mesh he had somehow encased himself in, trying to find a pillow, a blanket, _anything_ to cover the space where the cold air had slipped in from. Maybe he could just put a pillow over his head, and then he would be able to get those lovely extra ten minutes of sleep which always made all the difference. Another strong gust pushed its way in again. Goddamn wind. Goddamn window. There was nothing for it. He'd have to go close the window. Goddamn window.

He didn't so much "get out of bed" as _roll_. He just toppled over the side of the bed, as he always did. Mornings were, not surprisingly, not his favorite thing. He never _really_ woke up until the afternoon, preferring to coast through mornings instead. That is, he _would have liked to _coast through mornings, but when you live with the people he lived with. . .well, you don't always have the choice. Peter was a man of James' opinion as far as mornings were concerned: the less you have to do with them the better. However, Remus, with the exception of the day or two immediately following the full moon, always managed to be up and, even more shocking, _presentable_ at such ungodly hours as seven. Or, sometimes, _even earlier_. Pure insanity, in James' opinion. When they had been kids, Sirius had tended towards the James-side of the morning dilemma, but in the past few years he had changed his habits. James had the sneaking suspicion that he woke up so early so he could do his homework and never be caught actually doing it, which would have put a blot on his reputation as adventurer extraordinaire and all-around-mischief-maker.

James bumped his toe un-heroically on the edge of Remus' bed. He was about to mutter something, maybe some mad excuse for an apology that his morning-fogged brain might come up with, when he realized how futile an action that would be. Remus would not be bothered by his bumping his bed, and would not have been bothered if he had decided to dance a jig on the mattress, because Remus was not there. James' morning excuse of a mind tried to sift through the information. It's early. . .but Remus is already gone. . .must not be _so _early. . . but it's still dark. . . and there gave out the reasoning of early-morning James. It settled back to the old track, 'Must close window. Must sleep more.'

He finished the oh-so-long journey to the window and managed to convince his sleepy limbs to reach up and pull the damn thing closed. It was late autumn, well on the way to winter, and the polite breeze of summer had transformed into a rude wind which was cruel enough to wake James up. The nerve. The sun was beginning to creep up somewhere (James-in-the-morning had forgotten about that whole East rule), much to James' disappointment. Stupid morning. Off in the distance, he could almost make out a shape or two by the lake. He would never understand how people could wake up so early and then even _go outside_. By the lake, no less. Honestly.

He turned away and hoped against hope that the sun rising did not mean it was anywhere near the time he should actually have woken up and that maybe if he went back to sleep, he could get another hour or two of sleep before having to face a day of classes. Peter snorted as he stepped on a chocolate bar wrapper somebody had left on the floor, but didn't wake. James climbed back into his bed with a contented sigh, nuzzling into the warmth his body heat had left in it from the night. Just before he completely drifted back into sleep, a thought occurred to him.

Sirius' bed was also empty.

He would have pondered the coincidence if he had been awake, but, thankfully for him, he wasn't.

**Morning (continued)**

Remus always woke up early if he had anything to say about it. Of course, when he had spent the night as a crazed and self-destructive animal he usually had to sleep in. He liked how chilly autumn mornings were especially. Mornings like this one were the time when very few people dared to leave their warm beds if they didn't have to. For people who valued their privacy as much as Remus, those were the ideal times to go take a walk along the lake or read a book under a tree or even just get lost in your thoughts.

He had left the Tower on a whim. There were rules about being out too late, but not about too early. He felt the blast of cold air that greeted him as he passed through the large doors that separated the finest wizarding school in Britain from the rest of the world. He wrapped his robes closer and watched his breath as it puffed from his lips. He'd have to come in soon, but he might as well take a short walk through the deserted grounds. The emptiness was practically irresistible. He pulled the door closed without looking and was surprised when it wouldn't close. He turned and saw Sirius holding the door open with one hand only inches above his own. Remus' breath stopped in his throat. He hadn't expect to see anybody here, much less Sirius. Anybody but Sirius. He breathed out slowly, concentrating on nothing but the breath in and then out. Purposefully not looking at the way Sirius had of smiling in the corner of his mouth, almost a smirk. 'Staring. . .stop staring. I should stop staring,' he thought suddenly. Yes, staring is bad. Must remember that.

"G'morning, Mooney," Sirius said, and his voice almost dripped alcohol and honey. Remus had long ago decided that was what summed Sirius up: alcohol and honey. Something about that hint of impropriety mixed with that desperate carefulness.

"Good morning, Padfoot. You're up awfully early," Remus replied, trying to sound nonchalant. His voice sounded strained and unnatural to his ears though, and he wondered whether Sirius noticed or not. He never seemed to. All those times when Sirius would get too close or smile that way and Remus' heart would jump into his throat, Sirius never seemed to notice how his voice suddenly flattened out.

"You're one to talk. Where are you off to?" Sirius asked casually. Everything was casual with him.

"I thought. . .I mean, just for a walk," Remus stuttered. Suddenly it seemed silly and childish. What had he been thinking, who goes for walks at 5:30?

"Cool. Mind if I join?"

Cool? Oh. Cool.

"Sure."

They had been standing in the doorway, hands inches apart. Remus blinked and drew his hand away. He stepped back and let Sirius pass him. They walked for a bit in silence, a comfortable, pleasant silence.

'He kind of smells like honey,' Remus thought. The sun was beginning to rise over the lake as they approached, and it was a beautifully clear day.

**Morning (continued)**

There was laughter outside the door. 'I will not wake up. I will not wake up,' James repeated to himself. The laughter died down as it approached the door to their dorm room. James hoped it would just go mind its own business somewhere else and not bother him. Damn laughter. He pulled the pillow over his head, blocking out the sound. He thought he heard the door open and close, but he was concentrating more on staying asleep and not hearing anything to care. He was well on his way back to sleep again when somebody's alarm went off. Whoever it was soon saw a way to fix that and a loud _thunk_ signaled the defeat of the alarm.

Unfortunately for James' hopes of further sleep, this was first part of the morning routine. Peter's alarm always went off first, waking all of them, until Peter found something to bop it with. (Wizard alarm clocks are shockingly similar to Muggle ones. The only real difference between the two is that a Wizard alarm often gets cranky when you hit it in the morning and refuses to ring again. That and the fact that the ring itself varies with the alarm, Peter's had delusions of grandeur and yodeled.) A few minutes after, while Peter's alarm was nursing a bump on the head, Remus' would start in, followed almost immediately by Sirius'. (Remus' liked to alternate the music, some days opera and sometimes carols. Either way, it had quite refined taste. Sirius' sounded like assortments of animals, which always woke everyone up finally, even James. It is hard to ignore the sound of a lion in your room, no matter how much you dislike mornings.) James had an alarm, but it always hoped to get its revenge for a particularly nasty toss across the room by not ringing and him missing class, which was a mathematical impossibility if you considered the three other alarms in the room. It kept its hope alive anyway.

This particular morning went along the normal pattern. To James' grumpy morning eyes, Remus and Sirius looked unnaturally awake. They both went about the morning routines with not only good aim (James always ended up with something on the wrong place at least once) and humor, but also with _perkiness_. Damn morning. Damn perky.

In fact, they looked extra perky that morning. There wasn't a tinge of sleepiness in their faces.

Damn them.

**Morning (continued)**

As always, James stared off absent-mindedly during breakfast. His glance tended to rest upon a certain head of red hair further up the table. Sirius followed his gaze and let out a loud laugh.

"You could always go drool up close and in person, you know," he said loudly, clapping James on the back. James grumbled something half-heartedly, but Sirius had the upper hand as long as it was morning. "What was that, Jamie? Did you just tell me to go talk to Lily for you? Oh, well, _of course_. I AM your best friend, so I MUST go speak to your lady fair," he said, getting up and laughing at the panic in James' eyes. "Of course, she might just get swept away in the insurmountable beauty of yours truly. It's happened before." The last was said with all the mock-wisdom he could muster.

Remus glanced up from his book and something flitted across his face for a minute. No one could really figure out his emotions, even when something lingered on his face and you could tell it was something important by the way his eyes darkened, but it was anybody's guess what the actual emotion was. He never wore his heart on his sleeve, that was certain. Years of secrets and solitude had seen to that. Even now, when he was neither alone nor bound by secrecy, even after he had started to really trust his fellow Marauders, the training life had given him could not be shaken out of him. Stoic he was, and stoic he would stay.

James reached across the table and grabbed Sirius' sleeve, pulling him back down to his seat.

"Oh, come on, Sirius. I'll talk to her myself when everything's right," he said, knowing full well how stupid he sounded. Sirius snorted and Peter snickered.

"Of course you will. And this 'right time' IS in this century right?" he said, reaching for a basket of bread on the other side of Remus. His other hand briefly touched Remus'. Sirius went out of his way for those brief moments of casual contact. He didn't think about it, he didn't consider his motivation, he just did. Thoughtlessly, he always brushed Remus' arm when he could, or bump into him while they were walking, or thousands of other similar mundane moments of contact whenever he could. He was barely aware that he did it at all.

"Hey, that essay on kelpies for Defense Against the Dark Arts isn't due today, is it?" Peter asked with his mouth full. He had a pile of books on the bench next to him and a roll of parchment open on the table next to his over-flowing plate of breakfast. The parchment had already gotten some egg on it.

"No, it's due tomorrow," James said. "Geez, Pete. Watch your essay." He grimaced as Peter wiped a hand covered in tomato across the parchment. Peter's eating habits were. . .not very refined. Then again, they all had their faults. Peter's sloppiness at meal times was nothing to Sirius' late-night escapades in the girl's half of the Tower.

"Did you start yours yet?" Peter asked Sirius as soon as he had gulped down his mouthful of bread.

"Of course not. I never do anything a minute before I have to," Sirius said with obvious pride.

"Yeah? So what were you up to so early this morning?" James asked. Sirius blinked.

"What, you my mother now?" Sirius asked, his voice a little colder than usual. James laughed, but stopped when he saw how insulted Sirius was. "You keeping tabs on the rest of us now, James?"

"Of course not. What the hell? I was just wondering," James said. Sirius was always a powder keg and he had been since childhood. James had long since learned that the only way to deal with him when he was in one of his moods was to fight back. Sometimes all it took was the verbal equivalent of a slap in the face to someone in hysterics.

"Yeah, well, don't wonder next time," Sirius grumbled and the moment had past. James just rolled his eyes, but he did wonder what had prompted his outburst. What did he have to hide?

Remus, sitting next to Sirius, wondered the same thing.

**Night**

For some reason, Sirius hadn't been sleeping well lately. He'd sit in the Common Room for hours after everyone else had gone to sleep and find his eyes popping open before the sun had risen. The lack of sleep had begun to show in bags under his eyes. That night, after having woken up before dawn, he could feel sleep dragging at his eyes as he sat in front of the fire in the almost deserted room. Peter had fallen asleep in a small bundle directly in front of the fire and Remus had woken him up and taken him upstairs to go to sleep. Remus did things like that a lot, always watching out for the rest of them in those simple, essential ways.

James was pouring over his essay across the room, glancing up at Sirius every half hour or so. Sirius was just staring into the fire. He was a broody type naturally and had often had spells of depression similar to this when they had been kids. The Potters would buy James a toy Sirius had been hankering after and he'd pout for a couple of days, or James and he would get caught pulling some prank and James would be grounded and Sirius would pout. Silly, trivial things like that. James was sure Sirius would confide in him as soon as he felt up to it and it would turn out to be a failing grade on a paper or a crush on a teacher. Something small, and they would talk about it or laugh and forget. And then it would be done. Sirius would be back to his normal self, and everything would be fine.

The only thing was Sirius had been like this for ages, it seemed. It had gotten worse recently, so whatever it was that was bothering him must have upped the ante a bit.

Well, the full moon was only a few days away, and that was always cause for joy within the Marauders. The full moon meant exploration and adventure. That would cheer Sirius up, even if nothing else could. Unrestrained mayhem was his favorite thing.

With a sigh, James rolled up his essay. It hadn't been his best, but it was good enough. Besides, it was getting late and there was a pillow upstairs just waiting for his head to fall onto it. Closing all the books he had been using for research and shoving quills and spare parchment into his bag, he glanced at Sirius again. He'd barely moved since he had claimed the chair at least four hours ago.

Tact be damned.

"Padfoot, what's bothering you?" he said, sitting in the chair opposite Sirius. As Sirius obviously grappled for an excuse, James continued, "Don't start the excuses, man. We both know it's something. C'mon, what am I here for besides listening to your problems?" A silence followed his words as Sirius looked back into the fire.

"It's nothing," he said finally. James snorted gentlemanly. "No, really. I mean – it's nothing I can't handle, you know?"

"No, I don't. Why don't you talk to me anymore?" James asked, and now he was staring into the fire too. The question had been digging at him for a few months now. They had grown up together, they had spent every free minute getting into some sort of trouble together, and now. . .now, it was like they were growing up or something. Like they were becoming adults.

They both stared into the fire until James got up, gathered his things, and retreated upstairs. James paused at the doorway.

"I could help. That's all I meant. I could help. I don't know what's bothering you, but I'm sure we could work it out. That's all," he said, without turning around.

"I know, James. But this . . . thing," Sirius said, stumbling over the word as if he didn't know what to called it, "well, it's big, I think. And I don't know what it means." And that was all. That's all James got.

That was enough.

**Morning**

James slept fitfully that night. He'd done all his homework (miracle that it was), he'd talked with Sirius, everything was fine. Why was he restless _this_ night? He ended up giving up entirely sometime before dawn, after having woken up after another half hour (at most) bout of sleep.

'This will shock Mooney when he wakes up,' he thought to himself as he pulled on a robe and headed down to the Common Room. He padded quietly down the stairs, taking his essay with him. He might as well work on it some more if he had to be awake at this ungodly hour. He curled up in one of the armchairs by the fire and fell asleep before he had re-read even the first paragraph of his essay.

Somewhere between a half hour and an hour later, the sound of hushed voices woke him up. He tried to doze off again, but something about the tone of the voices caught his attention. They sounded . . . off. Something was wrong with them.

"Just drop it, alright?"

"You say that like it's simple."

"Just stop. It's not funny anymore. It was a great joke, _I'm sure_, but I think it's run its course."

There was a long pause after that, during which James started to really wake up and realize what he was listening to. It sounded like Remus and Sirius in the stairway. They didn't sound happy, that much at least James could tell. Remus had been the last one to speak.

"It wasn't a joke. Yesterday morning . . .it wasn't a joke." What on earth was Sirius talking about? What had they done yesterday morning? James struggled to remember something about the previous morning, and then he hit on it. They had both been out of their beds, hadn't they? He wasn't sure it had been yesterday at all, it seemed like ages ago, what with his little talk with Sirius the night before.

"Yes it was. It _has_ to be a joke, that's it. There are rules and such. . .tradition, you know?" came Remus' reply, but it sounded tired. "It just doesn't work like that. Not for . . .well, not for people like me." The door opened after Remus spoke. James hastily closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

Sirius followed Remus into the Common Room, but he stood by the doorway as Remus crossed the room and headed towards the portrait hole.

"So that's it, then? You pull the werewolf card and I'm supposed to just drop the subject? That's what you think of me?" Sirius sounded. . .wounded. Not just hurt, more than that. There was something _really_ wrong.

Remus sighed without turning around. "Look, you have to be logical, right? It's all wrong for so many reasons, I've lost count. You _know _that. I know you know it. So instead of making me come out and say it, you should just let it go," he said, his voice going very calm suddenly. Eerily calm and completely flat. "It's the decent thing to do. There are things. . .about me. . . which . . ." Remus faltered, searching for a way to say what he meant without having to say it. Without having to say that he thought Sirius was just playing with him like he played with so many people, and that werewolves and purebloods just don't mix, and that he really felt too much to be able to think clearly, and that if Sirius even said one more word, something would break. But most of all, he didn't want to say that they were getting dangerously close to the one thing he'd kept even from the Marauders, from the people he had trusted with everything else. He thought that he had made himself clear the evening before, but apparently not. Apparently, Sirius had decided to pursue his folly.

Something inside him made him turn to look at Sirius then. He couldn't control it. He'd kept that idea in him, that dream of Sirius, kept thoroughly stowed away somewhere where he could get at it in those early morning walks he liked to take alone. He liked them because he could think then. He could dream and think and believe, for the distance around the lake, that Sirius had somehow felt the same way and that somehow life would just clear a path for them and they'd be happy. But he was a logical boy, and he knew when he got back from the walk that the dreams weren't real. Sure, Sirius fooled around, but he would never feel the way Remus did. Yes, they could be friends, because his family didn't know about Remus' condition. But that was it. Anything more was taking chances he shouldn't.

But looking at Sirius, remembering that beautiful walk the day before and that honest and glorious kiss. . .

Suddenly Sirius had crossed the room. Remus didn't know how he had gotten from one side to the other so quickly. He was so close, Remus could feel the warmth of his skin on his own, and he almost felt their hearts beating furiously at each other. They were almost touching and some sort of electricity was pounding around them, and they both felt out of breath. Remus backed away despite himself, but Sirius just came closer until Remus felt his back hit the wall. Sirius suddenly was pressing against him, their mouths pressed together fiercely and hungrily.

James shifted in his chair. He hadn't heard them say anything since Remus trailed off and his eyes were still closed, but his curiosity was killing him.

At the slight movement, Remus and Sirius jumped apart, their faces flushed and panting for air. Sirius turned and saw James, asleep in a chair by the dying embers of the fire. When he turned back, the portrait was swinging shut and Remus was gone. He was about to follow when he realized that James' eyes were open and fixed on him intently.

Damn.

"G'morning, Prongs. Did you get tired of sleeping in a proper bed and opt for a change in scenery?" he said, forcing a smile onto his face. "Miss Evans haunting your dreams maybe?"

James looked at him closely. "Yeah, well you know how it is. A girl can really get stuck in your head," he said carefully. How was Sirius going to play this? Were they going to pretend that whatever had just happened with Remus hadn't?

"Only if you let them, my friend. Only if you let them," Sirius said, his glance briefly landing on the portrait.

"Sirius, what –"

"Prongs, my friend, I think today is going to be quite a nasty day. Essays due, Potions with the Slytherins. I think I am fully justified in saying that today is just not going to be my sort of day," Sirius said with that forced gaiety in his voice. He looked back at the portrait. James kept his mouth shut.

**Afternoon**

After the classes of the day were through, they all headed back to the Common Room. James had been watching Sirius and Remus all day for some hint of something, but they had behaved quite normally. In fact, if he hadn't overheard that morning quarrel, he wouldn't have been able to tell anything was wrong at all. That alone made him wonder about his friends. How was it so easy for them to hide things? James himself was an open book. Everybody knew he was in love with Lily, especially Lily. He really had no secrets of his own, though he was very capable of keeping other people's secrets. But if he had been the one arguing that morning, everybody would know about it.

Sirius headed straight up the Tower as soon as they entered the Common Room. Remus watched his retreating back, but said nothing. He just sat down at one of the tables by the window and pulled out a book. Peter plopped down next to him, completely oblivious, and started chattering about how well he thought he did on his essay and how awful the Slytherins had been in Potions. Remus responded the way he always did, smiling slightly and barely listening. That was more than the other two usually did for Peter, though. When he began prattling, they just started to ignore him entirely. At least Remus made the effort.

So the three of them sat chatting comfortably for an hour or so, and James almost forgot the morning's fiasco. It didn't seem real. After all, there Remus was sitting across the table, blithe as a daisy. Sirius even returned after a bit, and he didn't seem at all upset either. He just sat next to James, sometimes staring intently at Remus and sometimes averting his eyes. Remus' face was beginning to go a little pink, but he seemed calm enough.

Suddenly Remus shot up so quickly that he sent his chair toppling over. A few people around the room turned to look briefly, but scenes of passionate outbursts were common with the Marauders and so no one was very surprised. It wasn't usually Remus who had the outbursts, but, as a sage first year later told her best friend, when you hang out with _that type_ long enough, even the most docile of temperaments will be corrupted. Remus was beet red, but not angry or anything. He looked like . . . well, James couldn't tell what he looked like. Sirius leaned back in his chair with a cocky grin plastered across his face.

"What's wrong, Mooney?" Peter asked, surprised. Remus was usually the calm one, pacifying the more outburst-prone of the group. Remus stooped to restore the chair to its usual position.

"I, um – I forgot. . .that . . ." he stammered and Sirius' grin broadened. "I forgot something upstairs," Remus finally settled on and practically ran from the room. Peter got up to follow, but Sirius stopped him.

"Don't worry, I'll get him," he said and disappeared the same way Remus had gone.

"How nice of him, Prongs," Peter said, turning to James, "Usually he doesn't give a flying fig for other people's feelings." James nodded, but wondered about the sudden change in character for both of them. He tried to think of something out of the ordinary that might have prompted Remus' outburst. Remus had just been sitting there, quietly reading and getting pinker every minute, and Sirius had very demurely been sitting with his hands folded on his lap under the table, barely moving. So what the hell?

There was loud _thump_ from the stairwell. Somebody must have dropped a book or something.

**Night**

"That wasn't fair," Remus said as he and Sirius sat, much later that night, in front of the fire in the deserted Common Room. Sirius snorted.

"Yeah, well, neither are you," he said. He was sitting directly in front of the fire on the floor, poking it with a stick. Remus was sitting in the arm chair Sirius had occupied the night before during his chat with James with a book open on his lap that he hadn't been able to read all night. In fact, he hadn't even so much as turned the page in hours. He had just read the same paragraph over and over until he could recount in his sleep that, "The Twitchy Ears Hex causes the victim's ears to wiggle uncontrollably. . ."

"I don't believe you're thinking of anyone but yourself, and not even doing that very well," Remus said reproachfully. "This is a _bad_ idea. I don't know what you want out of me, but it's not going to do anybody any good in the long run, especially not you. You're just going to hurt. . ." me "yourself." Sirius looked up at him, with a halo of firelight around his black hair.

"Yeah, maybe. But that's not what's really bothering you, is it? What is it you really object to?" Sirius said, watching Remus shift uncomfortably in his chair. "You don't think I'm serious, do you?"

"Of course I don't!" Remus said angrily. "You have a new girl every week. Every day even. You can't expect me to . . ." he trailed off, looking back at his book. "I'm just not made like that." Sirius moved closer to him, and he could smell him again. 'Honey,' Remus thought.

"I have never been more in earnest in my entire life," Sirius said solemnly and slowly, looking Remus in the eyes. "You know me better than most people, I couldn't lie to you without you knowing it. You _know_ I mean it."

Without any warning, Remus began to sob. Loudly, unmanly, sobbing. The great pit in his stomach, that huge fear, the one he hadn't even told himself about, started bubbling up to the surface.

"But. . .I can't . . ." he choked out, barely able to speak, "What if I—"

Sirius had dragged him to the floor with him and was hugging him tightly. Fiercely even.

"You won't."

Remus gulped back a sob and considered Sirius' unwavering certainty. How did he know? How did he even know what it was he afraid he would do?

"You don't even know what I was going to say," he said accusingly. Sirius grinned and wiped Remus' face with his thumb.

"Yeah, I do." And it was true. He _did_ know, Remus realized. He knew without him having to say anything. He just knew.

**Morning**

The next morning Peter's alarm rang like usual, but Remus' and Sirius' stayed silent. James' alarm, out of pity, sang out and was rewarded for its magnanimity by being thrown across the room. They managed, somehow, to get themselves up anyway and out the door in plenty of time for breakfast, wondering where Sirius and Remus were.

They found Remus and Sirius, both fast asleep, in front of the long dead fire. James grinned.

**The End**

Questions? Comments? Rampant homophobia? Please review, I have not written a fanfic in about . . . six or seven years.


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